


It's Not Just About the Rent

by whitewoofgeralt



Series: Marvel Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Captain America, Cock Worship, Gloryhole, M/M, Modern Setting, Sex Work, bucky likes sucking dick, marvelbingo2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 04:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20002585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitewoofgeralt/pseuds/whitewoofgeralt
Summary: Bucky Barnes loved sucking dick. He loved sucking it for pleasure, for pay… whatever the reason, he rarely said no.





	It's Not Just About the Rent

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Marvel Bingo Prompt: Cock worship (B1). 
> 
> Beta'd by the super lovely and amazing betheflame. Thanks for the assist! All remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Also, there is a tag missing that probably should be there. However, I didn't put it in because I didn't want to give away the mic drop moment at the end. I will add it to the end notes for those who need it!

Bucky Barnes loved sucking dick. He loved sucking it for pleasure, for pay… whatever the reason, he rarely said no. He loved sucking dick so much that it wasn’t the fact that he was going to be short on the rent for the third month in a row and dangerously close to being kicked to the curb that had him begging for a job at the gloryhole across town. No, it was his love for dick - the way it felt in his mouth, hot and hard and pulsing. It was the way cum coated the walls of his mouth, his tongue, and the way it felt sliding down his throat. If there was a church designated to the practice of sucking dick, Bucky would lead the worship.

He was a slut for it, and damned if he would be embarrassed by it. Not when the rent was paid and his need satiated at the end of the day. 

Except, he kind of had a problem. A really big problem. 

Gloryholes ran on anonymity. He saw nothing but their dick; heard nothing but their bitten off moans and the way their fists sometimes banged on the wall that separated their bodies. He loved that about his job, actually, that he never had to see the face behind the dick. Liked the way in sparked his imagination and how he made up a story for each client in his head. 

His two o’clock had length and girth with a slight curve and pubic hair that was untamed and curly, the strays sneaking in through the hole. Bucky named him Ted, pictured him as hairy as his unkempt junk. He was straight, single, and most likely a little on the ugly side. He worked a mundane job he hated and cried himself to sleep. Bucky liked Ted well enough - he tipped generously and was extremely vocal. Bucky liked vocal. 

His four o’clock was on the smaller side, but thicker than most. He dubbed him Chad, because he was a bit of a demanding d-bag but he liked when Bucky used his teeth and pushed his tongue into the opening of his dick. In his head, Chad was a college dropout who peaked in high school. Probably worked as a janitor now and spent his weekly savings on these appointments. He may not have been as generous as Ted, but he was consistent and quick to get off. Bucky could appreciate that.

But Ted and Chad weren’t his problems. Sure their dicks were good and their reactions almost satisfactory, but they weren’t his five o’clock appoint every second Friday of the month. That was where Bucky’s problem lied. 

That man was something out of his wildest fantasies, with the prettiest dick he’d ever seen. So pink and flushed, all length and girth with veins in all the right places. In fact, there was this one vein just on the underside of his shaft that was thick and full… Bucky needed to get his mouth on. Loved to trail his tongue up and down in it while listening to the owner pant and curse out of view. 

Mr. Five O'Clock was vocal and encouraging, often pleading with Bucky for more - for harder, faster… slower. He said it all with a voice as warm as a good whiskey, where the burn as it went down warmed all the right places. It did all kinds of things to Bucky’s own dick; made it twitch and ache.

It was the ache in his own jeans that made Bucky pop the button and yank the zipper down; made him slide a hand inside and squeeze hard at the base of his dick. Mr. Five O'Clock made him loopy, made him forget where he was, and what he was doing, and where he was doing it. It was why he slipped, forgot himself and told Mr. Five O'Clock to call him Bucky - desperate to hear his own name on the man’s tongue as Bucky swallowed him down to the root. 

And  _ fuck _ , did it sound good. The way the man would moan his name, so sweet. So sexy. It made Bucky want things that he couldn’t have; things that his imagination just didn’t do justice. Was Mr. Five O'Clock built? Did he have wide, muscled shoulders, and a thin waist? Were there dips and curves that Bucky could sink his teeth into? Did he have hair just on the verge of too long and a well kept beard? Or was he clean shaven? Were his lips bitten red and plump? God, Bucky bet they looked so pretty. 

It made Bucky yearn, made him horny. 

He was only marginally embarrassed to admit that Mr. Five O'Clock’s visits became prime jerk off fodder. He tried to resist touching himself as much as he could during the appointment, did his best to remain as professional as he could but - 

But Bucky was struggling to keep that resolution. He had a problem after all. 

Mr. Five O'Clock, with his perfect fucking dick and phone sex voice, was enough to drive Bucky just a little bit out of control. So, while Bucky was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore his growing infatuation, he also looked forward to his Fridays. 

It had gotten to the point where Bucky could essentially anticipate the clock striking five pm. He popped open the top button of his jeans, and bit his lip as he checked the time. His stomach clenched in anticipation; dick giving an interested twitch. The thing about Mr. Five O'Clock was that he was a puncutial motherfucker. So much so that Bucky found himself longing for opportunity to make him very, very late for whatever he had to do  _ after _ his bi-weekly appointments. 

He had it bad, like really bad. If Natasha found out… well, he knew for a fact that she’d can his ass. She’d been very clear about the rules.  _ Do not show your face. Do not begin an intimate relationship with a customer. Do not give out your name _ .  _ No masturbation during appointments _ .  _ Failure to comply with rules will result in immediate dismissal. There are no second chances. _

He’d already broken several of those rules, and had even entertained breaking a couple more because apparently Mr. Five O'Clock made him reckless.

He heard a door open, heard the familiar footsteps as they made their way down his hall. Mr. Five O'Clock did his usual awkward shuffle on the other side, let out a huff of air and Bucky imagined him running his hands through his hair. 

“Hi, Bucky.” 

Bucky lowered to his knees, mouth already watering. “Hi, pal.” 

He heard the drag of a zipper, the rustle of fabric, and the tell-tale sign of a dick springing free. Through the hole, Bucky could see the man’s hand wrap around his already interested dick as he gave it a few tugs to get it all the way there. 

Bucky swallowed, hard. How was it possible for a dick to be so pretty? Dicks weren’t designed to be aesthetically appealing and yet Mr. Five O'Clock had hit the goddamn jackpot with that thing. 

“Shit,” Bucky whispered, unable to look away as the dick he’d been fantasizing for days,  _ months _ , slid through the hole. He placed his hands flat on his knees and let himself look and look and look; drinking in every detail in front of him.

On the other side, he heard the embarrassed chuckle from Mr. Five O'Clock. 

“Sorry, pal,” Bucky said. “You still have the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen. It makes a fella wanna…”

He cut himself off, no longer having the patience to put this off any longer. He wanted to make this so goddamn good for his favorite client. Wanted to make it so that whoever did this for him outside of these appointments paled in comparison. 

Hell, he wanted Mr. Five O'Clock to come crawling back for more. Wanted to bring him to the edge only to pull away over and over, just so Bucky could hear the man chant his name. 

He’d start slow, he decided as he dragged his tongue lightly along Mr. Five O'Clock’s shaft. On the other side of the wall, he heard a dull thud as hands braced against it. Heard a low, cut off whine. It spurred him on and he eased back, let this tongue lap at the head of the gorgeous dick; teased the opening there. 

The whine turned into a whimper; a caught breath. 

“Bucky….” 

It was so low, so quiet that Bucky almost didn’t hear. Probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been waiting for it. 

He lifted a hand and with a feather light tough, dragged his index finger up and down. When Mr. Five O'Clock’s dick gave a jump, the man behind the wall gave a shuddering breath. Bucky found he liked that. The silence, the keyed up response, the way he held back and took whatever was given. 

Would he be like that without the wall? Would he let Bucky take him apart until he was nothing but a quivering mess?

Bucky wanted to find out. Was  _ desperate  _ to find out. Wished that he could, but knew he never would.

Groaning, he opened his mouth and took Mr. Five O'Clock all the way down and held his position. _ One, two, three. _ He eased up, giving himself a second to breathe before he sunk back down, taking him the tiniest bit further. 

Mr. Five O'Clock jerked, swore; the action causing him to slip further into Bucky’s mouth. He gagged, drool sliding down Bucky’s chin and over the man’s balls. 

“Sorry, sorry. Fuck.” A bang on the wall, the sound of jeans being pushed down further as his hips moved and bucked on their own. 

Pleased, Bucky released the man’s dick with a wet sounding pop, his hand already coming up to replace his mouth. He ran his thumb over the head, smeared pre-cum over the tip and down. 

“It’s fine, pal.” 

Mr. Five O'Clock dropped his head against the wall with a resounding thud that vibrated through the particle board the walls were made of. “Can you….” he gave an audible swallow, voice getting stuck in his throat when Bucky leaned forward again, let the head of the man’s dick rest on his tongue. “Can you call me Steve?” 

Stunned, Bucky let Steve’s dick fall from his mouth as his brain tried to catch up with what the fuck had just happened. He’d never had a client ask him to call them by their names - even fake ones. They came in, took out their junk, and Bucky got to work. They groaned and moaned and got off. They never asked Bucky to call them anything and he never asked them to call him Bucky. 

Mr. Five O'Clock-  _ Steve _ \- had been the only one. 

Knowing Steve’s name made this all that more real, a piece of a puzzle he knew he wasn’t allowed to solve falling into place. 

Steve must have sensed his hesitation because that pretty dick of his had begun to flag and dammit, that  _ was not _ allowed. Pretty dicks like Steve’s deserved to come. Pushing back whatever doubts, whatever self preservation Bucky had, he threw caution to the goddamn wind and got back to work. 

“Would you like that, Steve?” he asked, lowering his voice. 

“Y-yes.” 

Bucky smirked as he wrapped a hand around the base of Steve’s dick. “Do you want me to talk to you, Steve?” 

Steve’s dick jumped; hardened. “God, yes.” 

“Do you want me to talk about how goddamn pretty your dick is? Want me to tell you about all the things I wanna do to it?” 

Steve’s hips banged against the wall, once...twice. Bucky chuckled. 

“I’ll take this as a yes.” He moved his hand up and down until Steve’s movements became erratic. “It’s not something I say to everyone, you know. Sure I play it up with them, tell them the things I know they want to hear but it’s all a part of the game.” 

He tilts his head, considering. “I want you to put your balls through the hole too, Steve. Can you do that for me?” 

Bucky waited for a beat, watched as Steve’s dick disappeared and reappeared; wasn’t the least bit disappointed to find that his balls were as smooth and bare as everything else. He ducked his head and in one quick movement, took all of Steve into his mouth - dick and balls. 

He swirled his tongue around it all, body buzzing with a need so heady it made him dizzy. Giddy, even. 

“Fuck,” he said, his free had coming up to wipe the spit from his face. He used the other to roll Steve’s balls around. 

“God, Buck…” Another thud, a broken off moan that went straight to Bucky’s dick. Made his goddamn knees quake. 

“I don’t play it up for you, Steve.” He was back to playing with Steve slowly, taking him closer and closer to the edge before he pulled back. Steve cursed, pleaded, but Bucky was unrelenting. While he wanted to make this so good for Steve, he also wanted to draw it out. Didn’t want Steve to tuck himself back into his pants and disappear. 

He wanted to keep the weight of Steve’s dick in his hand, in his mouth. God, what he would do if Steve were his. He’d live between Steve’s legs, would warm that dick with his mouth for the rest of his days if he asked. It wouldn’t be a hardship, seeing as Steve really did have the best dick he’d ever seen. 

He wanted to worship Steve’s dick - today, tomorrow, and forever. He was totally and irrevocably screwed. 

He kept talking. 

“I don’t have to play it up for, because you’re the whole package. The fresh wax you get done before coming to every appointment - don’t think I have noticed because I have - I fucking love that.” 

Steve moaned, loud and drawn out. Bucky had no doubt that he was heard down the hall. “I… I do it… f-for you.” 

Bucky’s brow raised as his grip on Steve tightened. “Just for me, pal?” 

“Y-yes.” 

Bucky picked up the pace, adding a wad of spit as he went and had to close his eyes against the sight. Steve’s dick all spit slick and flushed was almost enough to do him in. He reached down, sliding his hand into his already opened jeans, thankful for the foresight of never wearing underwear during his appointments with Steve. He gave the base of his dick one, firm squeeze before letting go. Get a grip, he told himself. 

“You really are perfect aren’t you, doll?” 

Steve let out a muffled chuckle that ended in a groan as Bucky increased his pace again. “I don’t know about t-that.” 

“Perfect dick, great grooming etiquette, vocal. I don’t know, Steve. You seem pretty perfect to me.” 

“Just you.” 

“Hmm?” Bucky took Steve back into his mouth, swirled and sucked obscenely at the head. Lapped up the fresh burst of precum. Steve’s words were making him feel bold, if a little reckless. “I want to hear you say it, Steve. Say it again.” With the faintest hint of teeth, he all but nibbled along the length of Steve’s shaft. 

Steve jumped, hips hitting the wall in a way that didn’t sound comfortable. “Jesus, Bucky.” 

Bucky sat back on his haunches and worked Steve over with his hand, no longer bothering with any kind of finesse. He was too keyed up, no longer able to ignore the ache between his legs. He shoved his hand back down his jeans and pulled his dick free. 

“Say it.” 

He couldn’t see Steve’s mouth open and close, but he felt the struggle. Heard it in the way his breathing had picked up and the way his body jerked every time Bucky did something he liked. 

Finally, Steve’s voice filtered in through the wall. “I’m perfect for you.” 

“Damn right you are, doll,” Bucky muttered. He worked his own dick in time with Steve’s, wishing he could rub against the dick he’d imagined inside of him so many times. “Fuck, Steve….” He pulled his hand away and spit into it before wrapping it around himself again. It was messy and loud, assuring that there was no way that Steve didn’t hear it. 

Behind the wall, there was an audible swallow. A hitch in Steve’s breath. 

“Buck… are you… are you touching yourself?” . 

Bucky was aware of the fact that he should say no. That he should pack himself back into his pants and focus on getting Steve off. This wasn’t about him after all. Steve was paying for this service and Bucky should -  _ needed _ \- to be a professional about it. 

But he didn’t do any of that, not when there was something about the way Steve asked; voice all breathy and awestruck. 

“Is there a problem with that?” 

“No, god no. So hot, Buck. So goddamn hot.” 

Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed as Steve’s words washed over him. He wanted to stand up, wanted to press his dick flush with Steve’s and get them off together. Wanted to see what their come would look like mixed together, what it would taste like when he licked his hand clean. Licked Steve clean. 

It was more than that though. He wanted to see what Steve’s face looked like when he climaxed. He wanted, wanted, wanted. 

His want made him tighten his grip, had him rushing towards the finishing line he’d been denying Steve for a while now. 

“Wish I could see you, Buck. Wanna know if you’re as pretty as you sound. Wanna know what you look like with your mouth stuffed.” 

Bucky dropped forward, his forehead banging against the wall as he groaned. He wanted to give that to Steve, wanted to throw open the door that separated them and fall to his knees in front of Steve.

“Want you too,” Bucky murmured as his breathing grew harsh, matching Steve’s. “Want you to see me like this, hungry for your pretty dick. I’d let you do whatever you want, Steve.” 

He was close, so goddamn close that it would have been embarrassing if he weren’t so turned on. “Fuck, Stevie.” 

“M’right there, Buck.” 

That was all Bucky needed to hear. With a hand still working his own dick, Bucky took Steve back into his mouth. He didn’t pull out any fancy tricks, they weren’t necessary. Probably not even wanted at this point. 

Steve got louder, his moans drawn out instead of bitten off. He banged on the wall again, and Bucky wished Steve could fist his hands into Bucky’s hair and pull. Hell, the thought alone was enough to have him spilling over his own hand. 

It didn’t take long for Steve to follow and Bucky swallowed it all with a pleased hum. He milked Steve, tongue lapping at every last drop as Steve’s dick softened and slipped from his mouth. 

They were quiet for a while, the only sound in the room was their rapid breathing. Eventually Steve broke the silence. 

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line back there.” 

“You didn’t,” Bucky assured. “But I know I did.” 

“I meant what I said, you know.” 

“About?” 

“Wanting to see you.” 

Oh.  _ Oh _ ! Apart of Bucky had wondered if the stuff coming out of Steve’s mouth were true, or if it was sex induced. Shit. What had he gotten himself into? _ If Natasha found out… _

“Steve, pal…. We probably shouldn’t do this anymore.” 

Bucky listened as Steve let out a shaky breath and pulled up his pants. “Oh. I-I can respect that.” 

“I just think it wouldn’t be a good idea, you know? Considering I’d really love to keep doing this face to face.” He smiled, couldn’t help it. He didn’t care that he didn’t know what Steve looked like, because looks had never been a selling point for him. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, pal. You got your phone handy?” He waited for Steve’s go ahead before he rattled off his cell number. 

“I’ll text you,” Steve said.

Bucky pulled his bottom lip through his teeth. “You fucking better.” 

***

Bucky had just finished cleaning up when his phone vibrated. He pulled it out, heart hammering in his chest as he opened up a message from a number he didn’t recognize but knew it could be only Steve. 

_ Steve: *image attached*  _

_ Steve: figured seeing as you’ve been sucking my dick for months now, it’s only fair you know what I look like _ . 

_ Steve: hopefully you’re not too disappointed _

Bucky clicked the picture, mouth falling open because holy fucking shit. He’d had a feeling Steve was good looking. But the man that stared back at him, well, he was more than good looking. 

In fact, the man staring back at him was Captain America. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Holy fucking shit. I’ve been sucking Captain America’s dick.”

**Author's Note:**

> #shrunkyclunks


End file.
